


You Know You Can't Hold Me Forever

by Equinox2324



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Dean's in love, Kid Fic, M/M, he just doesn't know it, mentions of abuse, only for like a second tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-29 20:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20088547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Equinox2324/pseuds/Equinox2324
Summary: Dean and Cas have been friends since they were seven-years-old. Now in high school, Cas has got a new boyfriend that Dean is not very fond of. It isn't until Cas shows up on Dean's doorstep in the middle of the night covered in blood that Dean figures out things are much worse than he ever thought they could be.





	You Know You Can't Hold Me Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to my best friend for her birthday (to which I am a month late for. My bad)

Mary and John Winchester were lucky. Not all parents could say they had two little boys like theirs. A gifted baby three-year-old who glowed with intelligence even so young. Learned to walk at eight months, reading at ten, and a charming young seven-year-old, already blessing the world with his smiles and loving personality. He loved everyone he met. There were always kids at the house because Dean always had someone to play with. It was soon, though, that those groups of friends became just one. 

"Momma, can I go the park?"

Mary was washing dishes when she heard the little boy behind her. 

"Sure honey, just make sure to be back before sundown," she said without turning around. The park was only a three-minute walk away, anyway. She was shortly startled by the feel of arms wrapping around her legs. 

"Thanks momma! Will do!"

Dean let go of his mother and ran off towards the door. Mary smiled as she heard the door close. How many friends will her boy bring back this time?

***

It was a sunny day when Dean met Castiel at the park. 

He was at the sandbox with a group of other kids, burying a toy car when he heard the noise, small and whimpering near. Dean raised his head from where he sat in the sand, spotting a small boy sitting against a pole underneath the slide, knelt over holding on to his knee. The boy was rocking back and forth, whimpering in obvious pain, but Dean couldn't see what was going on from where he was. There was no one else around this boy. Dean quickly got up and dusted the sand from his legs, abandoning the other kids as he ran over to the other boy. 

"Hey, are you okay?"

The boy startled at the appearance of another person, looking up anxiously, but then focused his attention back to his knee, looking away from Dean. From here, Dean could see that the boy’s knee was scraped and bleeding, his small hands not being able to stop the blood where they pressed again his knee. 

"What? Oh, yes, I'm fine. I-I'm fine."

The words were a lie. Because even though this boy clearly needed help, the focus of Dean's attention wasn't his knee. It was the big blue glassy eyes that looked up at him for a split second. Clear, bright eyes spilling wet tears across his red face. Dean felt sad. This boy shouldn't be crying. 

"You're bleeding. That’s bad." 

The boy looked up at Dean before immediately looking back down in a nervous tick. He spoke again. 

"Well I-I can't m-make it stop. It won't stop." He raised an arm to his face, wiping away the tears onto his sleeve, but he was still whimpering and rocking back and forth. Dean knelt down beside the boy. 

"You should come with me to see my momma. She'll know what to do."

The boy stopped rocking, but Dean could see his little hands were still shaking, covered in blood. "Come back w-with you?" he asked, still looking down and away from Dean. 

"Yeah, to my house. You can stand up right? It's just across the street that way," Dean stood and looked back, pointing behind him past the park to the street. He turned back around to see those wide glassy eyes turned up to Dean's face from where he sat on the ground, staring at him with a nervous look. Dean didn't think this boy had many friends. 

"Yes, I can stand," the boy answered, but still didn't move. Instead, Dean grabbed the boys elbow where he was knelt and pulled him to stand up. The boy squeaked as his hands fell away from his knees when he stood. He still looked nervous and though the crying stopped, there were tear tracks on his face. Dean pulled on his elbow, walking them both across to the street with the boy stumbling behind him on an injured knee. 

"H-hey, wait what is your name?" The boy said whilst Dean dragged him across the park. 

"Dean. What's yours?" 

The boy didn't answer, but just as Dean thought he wouldn't get a name and let it go, he heard the slightest little noise behind him. 

"Castiel." 

***

It wasn't as if there was ever a day that Dean enjoyed being in class, but for some reason, this particular day seemed worse. The air was stale in the heavy, cemented walls of the room. There were no windows for some god forsaken reason and of course their air conditioning wasn't working. A room of hot, sweaty, miserable teenagers is probably adding to Dean's current desire to throw himself off a cliff. Although, It's more likely the reason be that the usually occupied chair next to him is empty. 

Dean woke up this morning with exactly zero texts, which was weird since Castiel almost always texted him in the morning. It seemed to be habit at this point. They were little things, generally unimportant, but always making Dean feel just a little better from the comfort of hearing from Cas. 

"Good morning Dean, how are you?"

"Dean, I'm awake. Let me know when you wake up."

"Hello Dean, I hope you slept well." 

It gave him a feeling of uneasiness when Dean awoke from the whiny screams of his little brother and blaring of his iPhone and nothing came up on the screen when he checked. It was an instinctual urge to call him, but he tampered it down. Maybe Castiel was still asleep or running late and forgot. Either way, Dean let it go, mollified by the fact that he'd see Castiel later at school anyway. He got up, showered, ate breakfast, still no text. 

He got to school, said hey to Jo, went to his locker, checked his phone, still no text. And no sight of Cas either. Dean wasn't sure when they'd made it a point to meet at his locker, but sometime during freshman year, it became a thing. So, when Cas wasn't there, that was worrying. Dean instead went to Cas' locker a few halls down. Pushing past the crowd of annoyed teens, Dean reached Cas' locker. Nothing. The bell rang shortly after and Dean knew if he didn't get to class, his teacher would send him to detention. Again. Still though, not seeing Cas was off-putting. The little overachiever never missed school unless he was nearing close to death. 

Now, in this disgustingly humid class room, keeping Dean's mind focused was next to impossible. Apparently, his distracted energy was incredibly easy to spot as Jo roughly tapped his shoulder from where she sat next to him. He turned to see her eyes narrowed, frowning at him with an annoyed expression. 

"Will you quit tapping your leg like that? You're gonna smash your knee into the desk."

He looked back at her confusedly before looking down and noticing his right leg was bouncing up and down. He immediately stilled it, looking back up at Jo with a nervous smile. "Sorry, my bad." He tried to play it off as normal, which obviously didn't work since Jo's expression turned from annoyed frustration to concern. 

"Dean." 

"Yeah?"

"You're still doin' it."

Dean glanced down again to notice that his leg was still, but his thumb was tapping onto the wooden desk even faster than his leg had been shaking moments before. 

"Shit," Dean muttered lowly, balling his hand up into a fist to try and calm the hell down. It was like the tension in his body had no way of expelling itself other than turning him into an anxious disaster. After giving him another worried look, Jo moved her chair closer to Dean's, quietly enough that Mr. Walker wouldn't notice. 

"Dude are you okay? You've been all tense since we walked in. I'm pretty sure the next door classroom can hear you freaking out."

Dean glanced at her in annoyance, but without any real bite behind it. "You're hilarious. No, yeah, I'm fine. Promise." It seems even Dean's subconscious knows that was bullshit since he unwittingly turns his head to look at the empty chair beside him. Jo's shoulders had been bunched in concern, but she dropped them with a sigh as soon she saw where Dean had looked. 

"Are you worried that Cas isn't here? Is that it?" She said somewhat exasperatedly. Dean knew she was a little annoyed at his outward paranoia, but when he looked at her with obvious apprehension and worry on his features, he saw Jo's irritated expression soften. It wasn't often that Dean seemed so on edge, even though he didn't really have much of a reason to be. Thankfully, Jo knew him well enough that she could tell he was serious. She uncrossed her arms from her table and took one of Dean's hands into her warm palm, squeezing softly. 

"Hey, I'm sure he's just sick or something. Or maybe he finally decided to chill on the goody-two-shoes thing and skip for once. Could be good for him honestly," she said lightheartedly with a, what was no doubt supposed to be, reassuring smile on her face. It made Dean chuckle a little because she wasn't that far off. Cas didn't go out much. The worried expression didn't leave his face though. 

"Jo, he never misses class unless he's like dying or something. I don't think Cas has missed a school day since we were like ten. That says something. Aren't you worried?"

Jo scrunched her face in thought and put her arm back on the table. folding it under her other arm so they were crossed on her desk. "I mean, yeah maybe a little bit, but I still think you're being a little paranoid Dean."

Dean sighed and turned his head back down to face his desk. Yeah, maybe he was being paranoid, but could you blame him? "I don't know man. You're probably right." Dean knew it was the right thing to try and tell himself that Cas was probably fine. It was just something about his personality that couldn't fully convince him of that fact. Maybe it says something about him. Maybe he's too cautious, too overly-concerned. Maybe he should leave Cas alone for a bit. Maybe Cas is sick of him. Maybe Cas is actually sick in that "I-should-really-go-to-the-hospital-but-refuse-to-do-so way that only Cas can get sick. Too many thoughts at once rattle his brain for any of them to make sense. 

Thankfully or otherwise, Mr. Walker's monotone voice broke through Dean's rampant nerves. "Alright guys, we got about five minutes left. Let me take attendance really quick and you can all be on your merry way." 

The class sighed in relief to soon be out of this basking sauna and into their air-conditioned cars. Walker went down his list of students getting a tired "here" in return for each name. There was absolutely no reason for Dean to pay attention to this. If only the utterance of a particular name didn't make his insides feel like it just caved in on itself, and it wasn't the one he thought it would be. 

"Ethan Holbrook?" Walker called out. No response. "Alright, absent." 

Dean knew this feeling well. He'd felt it many a times when that name was mentioned. He couldn't even really say what the feeling was, but it was always there, lingering like tiny spiders crawling under his skin. A familiar concave in his stomach where he felt simultaneously hollow and so full he could puke. He knew it for the past year. Always there. The feeling intensified when he heard that second name being called out. 

"Castiel Novak?" No response. "Also absent." 

Dean felt Jo turn to look at him from where she was gathering her things. He stared straight ahead but could see her expression from the corner of his eye. It wasn't pity, but it was close, because she also knew where Cas was. 

The bell rang in that moment and the class started gratefully packing their things. Jo was standing up, having finished at this point, and put her hand onto Dean's shoulder, pulling him out of whatever stupor he just went into. "Hey," she said softly "come on, we gotta go. Class is over."

They walked to their lockers, conveniently placed right next to each other (Jo almost certainly did something to get it that way, but Dean never asked questions.) It's amazing how after being friends for so long, she doesn't even need to ask Dean what's going through his head anymore. As Dean opened his locker to shove his books into before they went home, Jo leaned next to him against her own locker with her sympathetic looks that were supposed to make him feel better, but never really did. 

"Dean come on, I know Ethan's kind of a dick, but Cas isn't an idiot. He wouldn't be dating him if there was really something bad going on. You know him, he's like the most cautious human being on the planet."

Dean continued throwing books into his locker. He didn't even try to deny what was bothering him. Jo would never believe him if he tried to lie anyway. 

"That doesn't matter Jo. Something fucking weird is going on with that dude, I know it." Dean threw his last book into the locker a little harder than one normally would. He turned to look at Jo, exasperated in his anger and concern. "He's not just a dick, he hangs around Cas like a fucking body guard. I can barely get near him sometimes without Ethan looking like he wants to strangle me. And Cas, he's all shaky lately." He said that last part with wariness in his voice. 

Jo bites her lip like she wants to say something but knows it will probably just make Dean more angry. She says it anyway. "He said he's stressed about exams, remember? It's probably all that caffeine he's drinking." Dean slams his locker closed. Even Jo doesn't sound like she believes what she's saying, but the thought is much better than the alternative, and she has to somehow persuade Dean that things are actually okay. 

"I've seen Cas stressed over exams. Hell, I've seen him out of his mind hyper on coffee plenty of times. This ain't that."

Jo sighs in that way that sounds angry and resigned all at once. "I don't know Dean, okay? It could be fucking anything. We're just gonna have to trust Cas to be honest with us instead of trying to jump to conclusions. Unless you got a better idea?" The way she said it made it obvious that he didn't have a better idea. 

It's honestly a miracle at this point that Dean hasn't up and punched something yet. Because to him, it wasn't jumping to conclusions. Cas had been so out of touch the past few months, but it's never been concerning enough for Dean to freak out about till now. Now he was missing class, he wasn't texting Dean, something was up. Dean scrubbed a hand over his face in frustration, grabbing his backpack from the floor and swinging it over one shoulder. "My parents are still at work. I gotta get home and get dinner ready for Sam." 

Jo pushed herself off the locker and grabbed her own backpack to signal her leaving, but Dean knew that this conversation wasn't finished. Good, he didn't want it to be. "Yeah okay, I'll talk to you later then. Say hi to Sammy for me, okay?" 

"Will do. See ya Jo." With that, Dean walked to the double doors and out into the school parking lot. He didn't want to be this paranoid. Maybe Cas was completely fine, but not since the second Dean had met Ethan did he think anything good of him. At first, he was just kind of a brute. Annoying, but tolerable and, most importantly, Cas had that smile whenever he was around. Where he showed his teeth and the corners of his eyes crinkled with endearment. It was a blow. Because Cas hardly ever smiled like that. Not even around his family, Jo, or Dean. For a while, Dean just accepted this as a part of who Cas was. He didn't show affection with touches or big smiles or hugs. It was the little things. The way his eyes lit up or his cheeks turned pink or how he'd scoot a little bit closer to you when you sat next to him. It wasn't those big shining smiles, but it was pure, unadulterated Cas, and Dean loved it. 

Dean didn't know when it happened, but at some point, the smiles stopped. The sweet rosiness of Cas' cheeks stopped. Instead, he got more and more anxious. More and more closed off. He still talked to Jo and Dean, but they had a more difficult time getting a hold of him. Cas appeared happy when they were together, but there was always something off. It was somewhere in the middle of his and Ethan's relationship. Cas said at first that he was just having some family issues and school stress. Dean knew it wasn't that. He just didn't know what it was. 

He pulled his phone out again. Nothing. 

***

John and Mary worked late today. It wasn't unusual, his mom being a nurse and all. His dad didn't leave the car shop until every car was fixed beyond its original make. Dean didn't mind most of the time, but it did mean he was the one who made dinner for him and Sam. Being fourteen, his brother was generally a bitch most of the time, but he ate the frozen lasagna Dean put in the oven, so it was a success. Sam knocked out pretty quickly after dinner, but Dean was too wired for sleep. It was only eleven anyway. He was sprawled on the couch, the TV playing in the background as he scrolled through his texts, one name in particular. 

Hey, where are you? 1:46 p.m.

You okay? 3:05 p.m.

Cas?? 6:22 p.m.

Dude are you sick I haven't heard from you all day 9:08 p.m.

Dean knew Cas wasn't sick. If he was, he would've told Dean about it in the morning. He was somewhere with Ethan, and try as he might, Dean couldn't get the thought of those rough, calloused hands raking their way over Cas' body out of his mind. It wasn't the first time, but this time it was much worse because he hadn't seen or heard from Cas all day. There was that feeling again. Dean shivered as the acidic sting wormed its way into him. He needed a drink. Something heavy to drown out the swirling bile in his gut. 

Pushing himself off the couch, Dean walked over to the kitchen cabinet, pulling a high-class whiskey from the top shelf. He went over to fetch a shot glass when he heard it. Dean would've sworn that if Sam wasn't asleep and the TV volume wasn't nearly mute, he wouldn't have heard it, the sound was so soft. He did hear it though, whirling around to face the door. A small, quiet knock. 

Setting the shot glass down, Dean approached the door with a hesitancy he didn't normally have; but they were alone, and it was almost midnight. He doubted it was some intruder though because how many intruders knocked with such reserve. Ensconcing himself in a cloak of made up bravery, Dean approached the door. 

"Who is it?" he asked in his most intimidating voice, but he didn't get an answer. There was just another knock, as gentle as the first. Okay, this was definitely a weird intruder if that's who was standing at Dean's door. Why would someone he knew not answer him?

Screw this, he thought. It was probably a lost kid or something. Dean walked over and pulled the door open, expecting some little boy or maybe a neighbor. It wasn't till he really looked at the person stood on the doorstep that he actually processed the image in front of him with wide eyes, all the air leaving his body at once. 

Castiel was on his doorstep, but Dean almost couldn’t even tell that it was him. The first thing his brain registered were the eerily soft pat pat pats on the concrete, loud in the stillness of the evening. Dean’s eyes shifted from Cas’ face, down to the concrete and back up. Even in the dark, the sight of blood dripping from Cas’ nose was easy to see. If only that were all. 

Deans brain was slow to process, shock and something akin to panic reducing the time his brain took to react. Every shift of his eyes across the other boy’s face registers harder and harder in Dean’s mind. Every look brought more anger, more panic that seemed like it was carving his chest open with every image. Cas’ cheeks were smeared with still wet crimson blood, as if he were trying to wipe it away but only making it worse. His lip was split, and Dean could see the corner of his jaw was pulsing red. Dean saw scrapes on his temple and marks on his neck in the shape of fingers. Cas’ nose hadn’t stopped dripping blood. By now his pale blue hoodie was covered in streaks of red that streamed from Cas’ nose and over his lips. 

If humans went off sight alone, then one might think it nearly impossible to identify the person in front of him as Castiel Novak. All except for one thing.  
Dean pushed down the burning in his chest and eyes to search Castiel’s face for the one thing he knew better than any: the blue eyes of a little boy with a scraped knee staring at him from the ground. But he couldn’t find them.  
Castiel’s eyes had been fixed at Deans feet the second he opened the door. It wasn’t till Dean heard the quiet sniffle and saw more drops fall to the concrete that he snapped out of his shock. Because it wasn’t just blood anymore. It was tears. 

"Shit, Cas," Dean forced himself to move and stepped out of the doorway, grabbing Castiel's arm from where it was crossed across his chest with his other arm, and pulling him inside the house. He immediately put his other hand onto Castiel's shoulder to try and steady him as he fell forward into Dean's arms. When Dean looked down, he noticed that Castiel's legs had nearly collapsed under him, struggling to keep him standing. Dean wanted to tell Castiel to try and stand up, that they needed to get him help, but all he could do at that moment is hold the smaller boy as he sobbed into Dean's chest. Dean quickly moved one of his arms to wrap around Castiel's waist and the other hand into his hair, keeping him closely pressed against his body. 

"Hey, hey, you're okay, I got you," Dean mutters into Castiel's hair. He can feel the body against him trembling. 

"Dean, I'm so sorry," Castiel's words were muffled against Dean's t-shirt, breath coming out in hiccups through his shaking sobs. 

"Sorry? Sorry, for what Cas?" Dean asked in confusion. 

He felt the hands on his shoulders tighten the smallest bit. "I don't know. For-for everything. For ignoring you. For not telling you about Ethan. 

In his need to comfort Castiel, to ensure he was really there, alive and standing, to hold him close, Dean's mind slipped away from the problem at hand. It seemed irresponsible, but the only thing on his mind had been protect. It wasn't until Cas said that name out loud that the weight of what was happening came back to him. He felt his own hands tighten on Castiel's body, his mouth set into a tight line against the soft hair under him. 

"Dean?" Castiel whispered. 

"Cas, listen to me. You didn't do anything wrong, okay? Don't apologize for any of it. I don't blame you," Dean pressed a firm kiss onto the top of Castiel's head as he felt his own eyes start to burn, "It's not your fault."

In the time that Dean was holding him, he'd unconsciously been rocking them back and forth on his heels. It was a tactic Mary had used when Sam or Dean would get sad and tuck themselves away in their mother’s chest for comfort. Castiel was still shaking, but his breathing had steadied a tiny bit. Dean could still feel the wetness of Castiel's tears, but he could also hear the constant rhythm of the boy’s breaths. It was small comfort, but a necessary one when the idea of Castiel no longer breathing plagued his thoughts all day. 

"Cas. Cas, we gotta get you cleaned up," Dean said after some moments had passed. This opportunity was fleeting. To be able to hold Cas like this, so close and warm in his arms was a blessing that he didn't even really know he needed. For once in his life, Dean wanted to be selfish; but, Castiel couldn't take selfish right now. 

Dean felt Cas still from his swaying, so Dean stopped too. He could feel the tension cascade through his small body, almost like Castiel forgot that he was covered in blood. 

"Please, Cas. Come on, let's get you to the bathroom," Dean said while slowly letting go, pulling back just a little to look at Castiel's face again. Dean kept the hand buried in Cas' hair, moving the other to his waist to keep him upright. 

The wet burning in his eyes stayed firmly where Dean forced them to stay without falling onto his cheeks. He needed to be there for Castiel, and if he started losing it right now, Dean knows that Cas would only pull back. It was so hard to maintain a steady enough composure when all he wanted to do was hurt something just looking at Castiel's bloodstained face. The blue of his eyes were pale, lacking the colorful vibrancy they normally carried. 

Castiel must have the seen the urgency in his eyes because at that moment he slowly slid his hands off Dean’s shoulders to hang at his own sides. His eyes looked back down to the floor, but he mumbled out a quiet "okay."

Dean silently grabbed Castiel's hand, covered in drying blood, and led him upstairs to he and Sam's shared bathroom. After leading Castiel inside, Dean shut and locked the door behind them.

Castiel was by no means short, but he was a couple inches shorter than Dean. Still tall enough to reach most things. Definitely tall enough to climb up something by himself. Dean knew this, so he wasn't sure what exactly propelled him to do it. Thoughtlessness? Protective instinct? He doesn't know. What he does know is that after shutting the door, Dean walked over to grab the first aid kit from the cupboard. He turned around to see Castiel leaning back against the counter, staring ahead at the opposite wall in thought. 

Without much contemplation, Dean found himself walking to where Castiel stood and leaning down as his hands gripped the back of Castiel's thighs, lifting him onto the counter top. Cas let out a small squeak as Dean pulled him up, his hands immediately gripping Dean's shoulders again to keep himself steady. It wasn't until Dean actually set him down that he realized what he just did. And it wasn't until he noticed how close Castiel now was to him that he realized it was a bad idea. 

For a few seconds, neither said anything, too caught up in the shock. Castiel had since stopped crying, but his eyes were still wet and glassy. His face was down turned in what had to be humiliation, but he returned Dean's stare. He doesn't know exactly how long they stayed like that. Something felt off to Dean in the midst of their staring, though, which so happened to be the fact that it was way more quiet than usual. It took a second to figure out that it was because both Cas and Dean had stopped breathing for a brief moment. 

Dean snapped out of his hazy thoughts at the sudden realization, letting go of Cas' thighs (since when did he continue holding on to them?) and stepping back from him to grab the first aid kit. Cas also fell out of his reverie, his hands falling back down to rest on the counter when Dean stepped away. Dean couldn't tell for sure, but it looked like there was a hint of disappointment in those blue eyes. 

"Um, " Dean stuttered as he got the kit ready, "I'm gonna clean your face with some soap and water, and then we'll put on some antibiotic cream to make sure nothing gets infected. None of the cuts look like they need stitches. Just some band-aids should work fine." The technique has become habitual in years past, both from the unavoidable playground scrapes of having a kid brother and the less-common, but not uncommon, fights a stubborn teenager like himself was bound to get into at points. 

Dean saw Castiel give a silent nod from the corner of his eye. 

The silence in the room stretched on as Dean grabbed a cloth and set it in some warm, soapy water. It wasn't until several minutes in that he heard Castiel's faint voice again. 

"Dean?"

Dean continued to get the cloth ready, giving a small questioning hum in response. 

"Are you angry?" Cas asked, his voice fragile in its hesitance. 

The question caught him off guard, enough that he momentarily stilled to think about it. 

The emotions he felt somehow went beyond anger into a territory that Dean couldn't pinpoint as one single feeling. It was an all-over tenseness in his muscles, buzzing with kinetic energy; a need to solve a problem in the most primal, violent way he could. Any thoughts of what he wanted done to Ethan Holbrook in his mind crossed into territory that "illegal" doesn't even begin to cover. Dean could feel the blood in his veins sing with heat. He can feel his eyes burn and his jaw clench in contempt. The indignant fury burning through his body was so strong, it seemed impossible it'd be overshadowed by anything; but it was overshadowed. 

It was pushed down by his bright, luminous need to protect. To make sure that Castiel knew he was okay now. To see him clean and warm and safe. To hold him, to touch him. To know that Cas is alive, with him, here. 

Part of him wanted to tell Cas all of that. Instead, he continued wetting the cloth in the soapy water. "Honestly, I'm trying not to think about it."

Dean wrung out the cloth in the sink and walked over to stand in front of Castiel, gently grasping his chin and lifting it to get a better look at the damage. The expression on his face was unreadable in a way that was different to his standard blank gaze. This expression is guarded, both trying to maintain a calm posture and also not wanting to let the emotions hidden inside him unveil, in this moment of pure vulnerability. His posture reflected that caution, with his hands clasped together on his lap, legs pressed together, where they dangled above the floor. 

Castiel didn't speak for a minute, only letting out minor winces from the soap sting as Dean wiped his cuts of the now nearly dried blood. It wasn't until his face was clean and Dean grabbed the antibiotic cream that spoke.

"Do you want me to tell you what happened?"

Dean paused in the midst of applying the cream onto the area above Cas' eyebrow, a hairs breath away from his temple. He lowered his eyes from the cut to look into Cas' impassive ones that were staring ahead at the opposite wall. "Only if you wanna tell me." 

Cas shifted his eyes to look into Dean's. The reserved look in them softened a touch at the answer, letting down some of that guard. The stiffness was melting away as though Castiel's brain was gradually sending signals to his body that he wasn't in danger anymore. They stayed that way for a few beats, Dean's hand still unmoving on Cas' skin. 

After what felt like hours, but was most likely no longer than a few seconds, Cas' eyes moved back to stare at the wall when he responded. "I don't think it's a good idea right now." Dean could hear the tremor in his voice, and he was clearly putting everything into holding back his emotions. Although the impassive expression didn't return. 

Once Cas turned his eyes away, Dean focused his attention back on the cut, eventually moving on to the other one on Cas' right cheek.

It went silent again for some time, but Dean's need to understand the situation more than what Cas was willing to give him arose out of nowhere. "Cas?" he asked. 

Castiel still kept his eyes on the wall. "Yes?"

"Where's Ethan now?"

The obvious unease that washed over Castiel's body was almost enough to make him regret asking the question, but he needed to know. 

Castiel didn't respond right away, but Dean didn't expect him to. Though, he knew for a fact that the only images running through Cas' brain were replays of whatever Ethan did to him, flowing with no continuous rhythm. Only flashes of the most painful moments. When he did speak, his voice was rough in tension, but still maintaining the calmness he set out for. 

"I, um, managed to hit him in the head with a beer bottle before running out. Didn't stick around to see what happened, but I'm guessing he's knocked out somewhere on the floor of his house."

The knowledge that Ethan was most likely passed out somewhere lead to Dean releasing a sigh of both relief and pride. Feeling Dean's exhale, Cas turned his face to look at him again. "You sound surprised," he said. 

Dean let out a faint chuckle that could be seen as immensely out of place for the gravity of the situation, but maybe what Cas needs right now is that normality. This situation was so far removed from normal that Dean felt the need to remind Cas of every good thing they'd experienced together in their decade long friendship. 

"Not surprised. Just proud of you," Dean said, capping the antibiotic cream and putting it away. 

He didn't hear anything as he walked over to grab the band aids, but upon returning, he could see the smallest hint of a smile in Cas' lip corners. 

"Thank you, Dean."

It was a tiny smile, but it reflected everything Dean loved about Cas. It was one of those personal smiles that he refrained from using on most other people. It was personal, a symbol of Cas' trust and a sign that he was slowly getting more comfortable as the minutes went by. It wasn't much, but it was for Dean, and that was better than anything else Cas could've given him. 

Dean gave Cas a tiny smile of his own. "Anytime, Cas."

Up until now, all the silences seemed as though they were cautionary pauses, specifically meant for one of them to gather their thoughts till they could speak. The following silence didn't feel like that. As Dean began to put the band aids onto Cas' cheek and forehead, the silence between them was much more comfortable. Cas had relaxed a fair amount, his breathing was steady, and his face was clean. 

This close to Cas, Dean could almost feel the warmth coming off his body. It was unclear to him if the all-around rose flush on Cas' skin was from the heat, or something else, but Dean sure noticed it now more than he ever had. Something about being this close to the other boy had Dean seeing things he’d never allowed himself to indulge in when looking at Cas before. It was in the strong line of Cas’ jaw, the delicate pink of his lips, the less-than-bright but still beautiful color of his eyes. Perhaps Dean had thought about these features before, but it was something entirely different to think them while he was inches from Castiel’s face. 

It isn’t like Dean to slip out of his mental consciousness, but it wasn’t until he heard Cas intake a sharp breath that he noticed one of his hands had come to rest on Cas’ cheek after applying the band aid. 

The days of not seeing Cas caught up to him. Sitting with him alone in the quiet made Dean feel like he truly hadn’t seen Castiel in years. It felt like when they were younger, huddled together in a tent with a too-bright flashlight between them in the dark, giggling as they shared some joke that made only them laugh. Dean hadn’t felt like that with Cas in who knows how long; but even then, he knew that Cas was something more special than his hoards of other friends. With Cas, Dean felt safe, loved, warm and content. Throughout the years, he could never pinpoint exactly what that feeling amalgamated into. Dean loved Cas of course, but he also loved Jo. This was something different. 

“Dean?”

There he went slipping out of consciousness again. This time when his mind caught back up with himself, he noticed he was even closer to Cas than before, their foreheads nearly touching. It wasn’t until he noticed Cas slowly leaning in closer that Dean abruptly pulled back, taking several steps away from counter. 

“Shit,” Dean muttered to himself as he tried to get more distance between them. The warm breath from Cas’ lips still tingled Dean’s skin, but he shut his eyes hard to block it out. He was too scared to look at Cas, fearing the confusion, the anger. When Cas spoke, his voice was small, but controlled. 

“Dean. Please look at me.” 

Refusing any request from Cas was difficult, but this may be one he had to deny. Dean could feel the shame in cheeks, in his simultaneously shaky arms and tense muscles. Cas always knew how to get what he needed, though. Dean should’ve known that.

“Dean. Please,” he said in a voice softer than Dean’s heard before. It was a begging voice. Cas was controlled, but he needed something. There was a desperate plea in that one word that had Dean opening his eyes to look at him. 

What he saw wasn’t anger or confusion. It was a boy that looked so tired and broken that all Dean wanted was to wrap him up away from the world to keep him protected. It was always out of Dean’s abilities to understand other people through looks alone, but he knew Cas was hurting.  
“Dean,” Cas said as he looked down, avoiding the guilty stare aimed at him. “I-I understand if you don’t want me. I know the situation we’re in doesn’t exactly help, but,” he paused to intake a breath before continuing “after everything that’s happened, not just today but the last few months, I can’t take losing you. Even though I know you’re too good for me, I can…I can get over- whatever this is. I don’t want this to ruin our friendship Dean, please.” 

The silence after that felt like it lasted a lifetime as Dean’s brain tried to process Cas’ words, his eyes never leaving the other boy’s figure. In those few seconds that it took for Dean to understand, Cas shut his eyes and turned his face away from Dean entirely. 

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for all this happen.”

Dean finally let out the air pressing against his lungs in pure shock. If Dean expected anything, it wasn’t that. He expected anger, maybe bewilderment, but not that. It wasn’t until the awe of the moment was broken by Dean really seeing Cas’ terrified expression that he knew he had to do something. To hear that Cas thought Dean was too good for him felt like someone slapped in the face with zero warning. It would’ve been laughable if it wasn’t so upsetting. With a determined push, he walked back over to Cas, grabbing both of his hands from his lap. At the contact, Cas turned his face back towards Dean, his expression still scared, complexion pale, and Dean felt how Cas’ hands were shaking in his own. 

“Is that what you think?” Dean asked, moving himself closer to Cas. Not quite touching level, but close. “Listen to me. None of this is your fault. That son of a bitch messed you up so bad, Cas, and I am pissed to high hell that I couldn’t be there to stop it. You are never gonna lose me and maybe if I wasn’t such a coward, I could’ve told you all this before you ended up with that piece of shit, but Cas, I honestly can’t remember a time where I didn’t want you.” Dean gripped Cas’ hands tighter, trying to convey how serious his words were. 

Cas’ mouth opened a fraction in surprise and his eyes went glassy again. “What?”

Dean sighed before continuing. “I never picked up on what it was until now. I always knew you were different. Just never knew what that meant. I don’t how in the hell you could ever think I’m too good for you. Since you clearly haven’t noticed, I’m a fucking mess, Cas.”

Cas let out an abrupt laugh at that, but his eyes were still wet, still confused. Despite that, Cas’ hands held onto Dean’s just as tight. “I don’t understand Dean. If you want me, then why did you pull away?” 

It was almost instinct at this point to turn away from Cas out of guilt, but he forced himself to face this head on. “Cas, you literally just got out of an incredibly shitty relationship.” Dean didn’t know how to continue with that statement, both in the fear of bringing up the painful memories Cas just went through and maybe a little of his own inability to express his feelings. He didn’t know how to explain that, for fucks sake, he just finished wiping blood from the fresh cuts on Cas’ face just moments before. He could still feel Cas’ shaking body clinging to his own in fear, in shame, when he collapsed onto Dean’s chest not an hour earlier. This didn’t seem like the time for Dean to move in on him, no matter how sincerely he felt. 

When Cas’ face shifted in understanding, Dean knew that he didn’t have to keep going. Cas knew, because he always knew. In his own understanding of the situation, Cas leaned closer than Dean would ever allow himself, pressing their foreheads together, hands still clasped on top of Cas’ lap. 

“You’re worried,” he said. 

“I don’t ever wanna make you uncomfortable,” Dean replied in a quiet voice. “and if you need time, then I’m gonna give it you, Cas.” 

Cas pulled away slightly, enough for Dean to see that tiny smile come back to his lips. “I appreciate that, Dean. I really do, but right now, all I want is to be here with you. If you want me to be honest, I’ve been thinking about kissing you since we were ten. I know we’re gonna have to talk about this more later, and yes, it’s gonna take a while before I’m all okay again.” Cas’ expression took on that tense look momentarily before disappearing again. He leaned in closer to Dean. “Just for now though, help me forget about all this.”

Dean could feel the anxiety hulled away in his chest release at Cas’ words. Even without fully understanding what his feelings for Cas really were until recently, he knew that something in his body had given. It almost felt like they were floating with the weights of holding back finally cut off. 

With a shaky smile, Dean pulled one of his hands from Cas’ grip, moving it up to gently grasp Cas’ neck, with a tender thumb rubbing back on forth on Cas’ cheek just above the band aid. “That I can do.” 

Dean never knew something as bright as the smile on Cas’ face just before he leaned in to press their lips together. It was chaste at first, neither really moving in frozen glory. It was the simplest thing in the world, but Dean was confident that nothing in the world would feel better than Cas’ lips again his. 

He felt Cas’ arms move up to wrap around his neck a moment later and dismissed his earlier thought. With the confidence of feeling a body against his, Dean opened his mouth against Cas’ lips, elated when Cas copied his actions. Their mouths continued to move against one another’s, and it was like Dean didn’t know what breathing was until he knew what Cas tasted like. Ironic, considering he couldn’t exactly breathe at the moment. 

Dean pressed a touch harder against those soft lips, somehow hoping to taste even more of Cas than he already had until he felt Cas jerk and pull back. Surprised, Dean removed his hand from Cas’ neck. 

“Shit, Cas what’s wrong?”

Cas pulled his arms from Dean’s neck, bringing his right hand up to his mouth and pressing his fingers to his bottom lip. “Nothing, it’s just the cut. Stung a bit.” 

“Oh, sorry.” 

Cas laughed quietly as he wrapped his arms back around Dean’s neck, pulling him closer. “It’s okay. I’m content just like this.” 

In an odd way, Dean couldn’t help but agree as he placed his hands onto Cas’ hips, slowly tracing them down to the bottom of Cas’ thighs. “As much as I’d love to hang out here, we should probably take off these stained clothes.”

“Wow, you trying to get me naked already? Slow down there Winchester," Cas muttered in his most deadpan voice. 

Dean chuckled and thoroughly tried to get that image out of his mind. This was certainly not the proper time to be thinking about Cas naked. No matter how much he wanted that. Damn, did he want that. “You’re hilarious. Now, come on.” 

“Come on, what?”

Dean smirked in a way that Cas knew whatever was about to happen next would be a surprise. Probably not one he’d like. 

“I just told you. We gotta change.” With that, Dean gripped Cas’ thighs again, picking him up off the counter and pulling him as close to himself as he could. Cas flailed for a second, laughing in delightful shock and immediately wrapping his legs around Dean’s waist, arms grasping tighter where they hung around Dean’s neck. 

“You’re a menace,” Cas stuttered out through his laughter. Dean just gripped him even tighter with one arm as he used the other to unlock and open the door, grabbing onto Cas fully again once he began walking them to his room. 

“Get used to it, baby,” Dean said with a trademark grin. 

Cas’ laughter died down enough for him to rest his head onto Dean’s shoulder, a smile still in his voice as he whispered into Dean’s ear. 

“Trust me, I already am.” 

In the back of his head, Dean knew that everything wasn’t fixed. There was still Ethan to deal with later. Not to mention, the time it would take for Cas to heal. And they’d have to have a long conversation about their relationship sometime soon. Right now, Dean didn’t want to think about any of that. So, he didn’t. He had Castiel in his arms. The rest of the world could wait.


End file.
